


the cat's pyjamas

by wandr



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Cats, Childhood Friends, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Pet-raising, San Francisco, Slice of Life, happy b’day cat/su!, implied junhoon, soft n sweets bfs, suburban living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12649416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandr/pseuds/wandr
Summary: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. When Wonwoo moved into his new apartment with his boyfriend, he hadn't been expecting the latter.Domestic pet-raising AU.





	the cat's pyjamas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [historiologies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/gifts), [nikospyrr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikospyrr/gifts).



> (very long sappy a/n @ end. (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)(ˆ⌣ˆc))

 

When young Wonwoo, equipped with a backpack twice the size of his knobbly body, had stumbled past Soonyoung and his Hello Kitty sneakers on his first day of school, he would have never dreamed the boy to be the person he’d fall in love with one day. No; at that moment walking through the kindergarten classroom door, he’d been far too bewildered to concentrate on anything else.  
  
“Are you wearing girl shoes?” He’d breathed it out before there was time to process, brain and mouth seemingly unconnected. He looked from the pink-and-white shoes bouncing foot-to-foot on the jigsaw-patterned carpet up to their owner, whose arms were swinging about a backpack equally as engulfing as his own.  
  
The boy looked at Wonwoo then, eagerly pointing at the blank-faced cartoon cat stitched to the sides of his kicks.  
  
“Yeah, they’re my sister’s. Aren’t they so cool?”  
  
This moment would be the first of many in years to come where Wonwoo would seriously question _what_ went on in Soonyoung’s mystery of a brain, if he even had one; or, perhaps, if he were an alien sent to study how humans react to whimsical antics like dressing as an egg with satan horns for their high school Halloween party (“ _Devilled eggs,_ ” he’d explained to Jihoon, who refused to talk to him for weeks after), or later convincing Wonwoo into an impromptu makeout session in their college library when they really should’ve been studying for midterms (if Wonwoo’s totally honest, not much convincing had to be done).  
  
Even now Soonyoung still manages to surprise him. But love—or Soonyoung’s alien magic perhaps—holds special powers, because here they are years later, settling into their suburban apartment in San Francisco. It’s a small thing: rented, ground floor, and barely a third of the size of a regular house—but for the two of them, it’s just right.  
  
“We should have kids.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Wonwoo instantly looks up from the box of books he’d been unpacking. Soonyoung stands by their newly assembled couch, decorating it with cushions and throw blankets attentively, as if he hadn’t just dropped an entire nuclear bomb onto his boyfriend. He hums a random jingle, and then clarifies. “Let’s get a cat.”  
  
“Fuck.” Wonwoo places down the history book he’d been holding to wipe the sweat that’d rushed to his face in that half-second of complete panic. “Can you never say things like that without context again? I really felt my life expectancy sliced in half.” He sees the back of Soonyoung's head move, and knows that Soonyoung's probably smiling at his distress.  
  
“So… what d’you say?” Soonyoung continues fluffing the cushions and blankets, laying them out neatly at each end of the couch.  
  
“A cat?” Wonwoo thinks. “I don’t know. It’s only been a week since we moved in. We don’t even know the building’s policy on pets.” He collapses the empty box in front of him, pushing it to the side and reaching for another. “Maybe we should give it more time. Think about it more first.”  
  
  
  
The next day finds Wonwoo driving a visibly excited Soonyoung to an advert he’d found on Craigslist the night before. It’s a farm two hours away, up in Santa Rosa: the family’s cat had birthed a litter a month back, and they didn’t have the means to care for the kittens much longer. Wonwoo suggested just buying one from a pet shop nearby, but Soonyoung cried back about the unethical conditions of the kitten mills they were probably supplied from (“ _And besides, the farmer’s adopting them out for free!_ ”).  
  
The gravel crackles from beneath Wonwoo’s Nissan Versa as they pull up to the ranch gate. Soonyoung’s already jumped out of the car by the time Wonwoo turns off the ignition. “If we’re murdered on this farm, it’s all on you.” He gets out and watches Soonyoung roll his eyes, though not unkindly.  
  
“You’re being judgy, Nonu-yah. We might’ve been farmboys in another universe.”  
  
After greeting the ranch’s owner, a middle-aged woman with curly hair and kind eyes, she takes them out back to a barn. In a corner is a metal pen filled with boxes, blankets and bales of hay. Only two male kittens— one black, one brown— remain, the others already adopted out to new homes. “They’re brothers. Oil and water, the both of ‘em, but they’ve got their own charms and are almost inseparable. Good luck.” The lady winks and leaves Wonwoo and Soonyoung, telling them to give her a holler when they’ve made their decision.  
  
“They’re so cute… and so _small_ ,” Soonyoung breathes, squatting beside the brown kitten and peskily wagging his finger near its nose. Not to Wonwoo’s surprise, it opens up its tiny mouth and chomps down. He laughs while Soonyoung pulls his finger away and tut-tuts the kitten.  
  
“I like that one, he’s got unconventional charm. I guess they are quite cute.” Wonwoo squats down too, waving a long string of hay near the black kitten’s face. This one’s a lot more playful and affectionate; it jumps about, trying to grab the hay, before waddling over to purr and rub against the cuff of Wonwoo’s jeans.  
  
“He’s pretty cute as well,” Soonyoung sighs from where he sits, scratching the brown kitten’s chin, winning its trust. “How’re we supposed to choose one? They’re inseparable, like she said.” The kittens, as if magnetised, move back to each other to play-fight, jumping and batting and nipping at each others’ ears. They roll and tumble, balls of black and brown.  
  
There’s a beat of quiet then. Wonwoo looks to Soonyoung, sitting and watching the two creatures play amongst the blankets and boxes and bales of hay, his chin leaning into his hand, smile rounded out with fondness, and Wonwoo just feels something deep inside of him melt.  
  
“Then they’ll have to stick together.”  
  
  
  
“You want to name your cats after kpop singers?” Wonwoo asks on the drive home, Soonyoung now sitting in the backseat, cuddling a cardboard box of their newest family additions to his chest.  
  
“Our cats,” Soonyoung corrects. “And yes. Shinhwa is legendary— Wouldn’t you find it flattering? If I were an idol, I’d want pets named after me.”  
  
Wonwoo doesn’t argue. He only requests that they call the black and brown kittens by nicknames, for simplicity’s sake: Ric and Sung.  
  
  
  
The first week after the cats come home is complete chaos.  
  
Perhaps they’d been in a better mood when Soonyoung and Wonwoo brought them home from the farm, or perhaps they were tired from all the play; but now, after witnessing them claw their way through Wonwoo's favourite armchairs, their earlier cuteness feels like a calculated act, disguising their true monster selves.  
  
“Soon-ah.” Wonwoo runs a hand through his hair, eyeing the extent of the damage: lines and lines of torn fabric, curling and breaking like pencil shavings. Cushions more defeathered than a Thanksgiving turkey. They hadn’t gotten into the book cabinet, thankfully— that _really_ would’ve been the last straw. “Look, Soon-ah.”  
  
“But they’re just babies!” Soonyoung interjects, already anticipating what Wonwoo will say next.  
  
“If they were shredding through your sneaker collection you’d be saying differently.” Wonwoo sighs as he plucks a feather from the tattered couch, the kittens napping peacefully amongst the aftermath of their destruction. He swishes it gently across Ric’s nose and he sneezes. Wonwoo sighs again. “I get that. But we have to try something. Training them, somehow. I looked up why cats scratch and it’s so they can file their claws. If we let them outside, they can use the trees and spare my chairs—”  
  
“We can’t let them out though,” Soonyoung interjects once more. “Our street’s quiet, but the main road down the block isn’t. And what if they caught fleas? Or worse, rabies?” He walks to Wonwoo, brushing a stray feather from the arm of his cardigan before linking it with his. He squeezes gently and feels Wonwoo relax, a bit. “Okay. I’m sorry about your chairs, grandpa,” he teases gently, bumping his hip lightly against Wonwoo’s. “I promise I’ll try harder. I’ll train them even harder than my students; it’ll be kitty bootcamp.”  
  
Wonwoo relaxes a little before bumping his hip back, tucking a feather behind Soonyoung’s ear. “Alright.”  
  
Soonyoung keeps his promise. It’s a slow process, him preferring to train them through trial and error than from the pages of instructions Wonwoo photocopies from library books, but over a few weeks the kittens come to learn to keep their scratching to the designated rope posts and to make use of the space _within_ the litter box, not around it. When Soonyoung’s working at the dance studio, Wonwoo emerges from his home office every hour or so to check on them— if they aren’t already sleeping on his feet. It’s weird, not being alone from nine-to-five anymore, but if Wonwoo’s completely honest, he’s coming to enjoy the extra company. Every writer needs a muse—or two or three.  
  
One evening, after a particularly gruelling day of work, Soonyoung greets Wonwoo by threading his fingers through his hair, pressing him against the wall, and kissing him. There was a text message beforehand, an image attached, so Wonwoo is more than prepared; he kisses back with equal fervor.  
  
They find themselves in their bedroom eventually. Soonyoung pushes Wonwoo onto the bed and cages him with his arms. There’s a quiet intensity in the air, and Wonwoo feels it in the way Soonyoung clutches the fabric at his shoulders, trailing kisses along his neck and up to his ear, breathing a kiss onto the lobe. Wonwoo exhales. He turns his head towards the door.  
  
Oh.  
  
There’s a quiet intensity, until there isn’t.  
  
“Soon-ah?”  
  
“Mm?” (It’s barely a grumble, Soonyoung’s mouth heavy on Wonwoo’s helix.)  
  
“They’re staring at us. The cats.”  
  
“Huh? Who cares? Even better.”  
  
Wonwoo jabs his elbow into Soonyoung’s side. “I care. It’s weird.”  
  
Feeling an irreparable drop in atmosphere, Soonyoung looks up. “Okay. Closing the door, Gertrude.”  
  
He does, at lightning speed. About to return to his ministrations, Soonyoung stops when the sound of meowing and scratching starts from the other side of the door. The two of them attempt to ignore it for a while, but the noises only persist. Eventually, they give each other a knowing look, an unspoken _so I guess that’s it for tonight?_ , before quietly getting up to open the door.  
  
The kittens tumble forward like bowling pins. After recovering, Ric waddles to Wonwoo while Sung slinks to Soonyoung and they’re picked up and taken to the living room. Soonyoung turns on the television, and they settle into the couch, petting the cats until everyone falls asleep.  
  
(Around four a.m. Soonyoung wakes up. He’s about to move back to their bedroom when he stops, seeing the way the muted fuzz of the television hits Wonwoo’s sleeping face in the dark, shrouding him in a glow of artificial light. On his lap, Ric and Sung curl together in a yin-yang of black and brown. Wonwoo’s mouth hangs slightly agape. Soonyoung wants to kiss it. Instead, he pulls a blanket from the side of the couch, draping it over their shoulders like they used to when they were ten and superheroes, and nestles back in to sleep.)  
  
  
  
“I hope they won’t be lonely tonight...”  
  
Wonwoo jumps a little, having not noticed Soonyoung walking into their bathroom, and quickly slides his phone into the pocket of his dress pants. He’d have to check with Jihoon before they left to see if the arrangements were all ready. They should be; Wonwoo has spent months now meticulously planning the surprise anniversary dinner for his boyfriend.  
  
Phone safely hidden, Wonwoo looks up to the mirror. He takes in a small breath: Soonyoung’s dressed in a fitted suit, pants and tie black and blazer and shirt white. The outfit perfectly matches his hair: a neat, black undercut. Wonwoo’s wearing a suit too, all navy with a white shirt, but he doesn’t think it matches him anywhere as well as Soonyoung’s. _You look incredible_ is what Wonwoo wants to say. Instead, he says, “It’s not their first time alone. And they’re almost five months old now.” He looks Soonyoung up and down exaggeratedly, then smiles. “Nice suit, by the way.”  
  
Soonyoung smiles back, preening. “You told me to dress nicely. And I guess so… hey, can’t I just get a hint about where we’re heading? A casino, maybe? Are we getting drunk-married in Las Vegas?”  
  
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Wonwoo feels a buzz in his pocket and quickly glances at his phone; it’s Jihoon, telling him the preparations are all set. “Time to go,” he says, grinning, and reaches over to hold Soonyoung’s hand and brush a thumb over his knuckles. “Ready?” He gets a grin in return.  
  
“Ready.”  
  
On the way to the door, after checking all the lights are turned off, the windows closed, the kitty litter empty, and the bowls filled with kibble, Wonwoo and Soonyoung hear a thick coughing noise coming from their bedroom.  
  
“Did you hear that?” Soonyoung looks to Wonwoo, confused, then back to their bedroom when the noise sounds once more, this time thicker, louder. “The cats!”  
  
They rush in. It’s Sung. He’s on the foot of their bed, back arched and coughing, viscous orange clumps already out of his mouth and atop their blanket. Behind him, Ric tensely paces around the bed. Soonyoung rushes over, about to pick Sung up when he’s hissed at, shaken. He worries his bottom lip and looks to Wonwoo by the door. “He’s sick. What happened? He was fine a few hours ago.” Examining the clumps closer, Soonyoung notices flecks of red and green and feels himself filled with dread. “No…”  
  
He pushes past Wonwoo, who’s still standing by the door frame, body and mind trying to catch up to everything that’s happened in the past five minutes, just when they were about to leave the apartment. Why now?  
  
In the kitchen, Soonyoung looks into the sink: his suspicions were right. A used plate, previously covered with sauce and small bits of vegetables from the Thai take-out he had eaten for lunch is now spotless, white and gleaming. A few paw-shaped splotches of sauce decorate the edge of the sink. Soonyoung groans, fist hitting the counter in frustration. “Stupid!”  
  
Having finally caught up, and realising what Soonyoung’s implying, Wonwoo moves to rest a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Soon-ah. Really. It’s never happened before, and we leave dirty plates in the sink all the time.”  
  
“The food had chili. And _onions_. And he ate _all_ of it, oh my god…” Soonyoung grabs a roll of paper towels, dampening a few sheets, and rushes back to the bedroom. Wonwoo follows him slowly, dread settling in his stomach, already anticipating where this is heading. Why did this have to happen tonight, of all nights? It isn’t fair, he’d been planning this for so long...  
  
When he finally reaches their bedroom Soonyoung is already nursing a still-shaken but visibly less tense Sung. In his free hand he holds his phone, scrolling through tabs and tabs of medical advice.  
  
“All the vets are closed. Most websites say he should be fine since it was a small amount. But…” He worries at his bottom lip, looking down at a shivering Sung on his lap for a few moments, before dragging his eyes to Wonwoo, hair styled and dressed up, hovering by the door “... he needs constant supervision. In case he gets worse.”  
  
Of course. Wonwoo had read about first aid when they’d gotten the cats and by now accepted staying home to be the probable case; regardless, it doesn’t stop the deep churning in his gut now that Soonyoung’s actually confirmed it.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I’m so sorry. Are there cancellation fees?”  
  
_Yes_ , Wonwoo wants to say. _And all our friends and family are on their way to the venue— that four-star Japanese restaurant you wanted to try in senior year— and tonight, after some of them performed for us and we ate and danced and after I said a speech, I was going to_ —  
  
It’s only when Wonwoo hears and feels warm purring against his leg that he suddenly realises his hand has been gripping the door frame tightly and he’s been thinking and not responding, so he wills himself to relax and looks up. Soonyoung’s still sitting on the foot of their bed, holding Sung carefully on his lap and scratching behind his ears, gently wiping away the residue around his mouth with a damp paper towel.  
  
“No,” Wonwoo finally lies. Soonyoung gives him an apologetic smile.  
  
When he isn’t looking, Wonwoo slips his phone out of his pocket.  
  
   5:37pm | jihoon: All set  
   5:53pm | you: plan suspended. cancel the reservation, pay you back later. the others can go home. sorry  
  
He switches it off and drops it on their bedside table. Before helping Soonyoung clean up, he removes the small velvet box resting in his blazer pocket, a previously-weightless thing that now feels like a dumbbell in his tired hands, and turns to hide it beneath a pile of clothes in their closet.  
  
  
  
A few months later, on an overcast late-summer afternoon, Wonwoo is watching TV around the time Soonyoung’s due home. The weatherman says something about a trough moving through the area and as if on cue, a gust of wind swirls through his office window and makes the venetian blinds in the lounge room clatter. He gets up and closes the window at the same time Soonyoung opens the door.  
  
“Hey…” Wonwoo starts to say when he’s back in the lounge room, but then he sees Soonyoung blank-eyed and quietly slouched on the couch, the cushions engulfing his whole body. It only takes Wonwoo one look to know it’s been one of _those days_ : Soonyoung comes home with energy to spare, usually, but on the toughest and most draining of work days, it’s like his entire life force has been sucked dry. By now Wonwoo knows how it’s best managed; he also slouches beside Soonyoung on the couch and lets Soonyoung curl his arms around his torso into a loose hug, heavy head burying into the fabric at his shoulder. A battery recharging. The television flickers.  
  
A few minutes or ten or maybe an hour later they’re still cuddling, Wonwoo smoothing Soonyoung’s hair, and he can tell Soonyoung’s feeling a bit better.  
  
“How’s your day?” He feels more than hears Soonyoung grumble this into his arm. Before responding he shifts so Soonyoung’s in a more comfortable position, nuzzling into more chest than shoulder.  
  
“I should be the one asking. But good.” The television dies to an inky black, and it’s only then that Wonwoo realises how chilled and stormy it’d gotten in the time they were resting. “Strange,” he mumbles to himself. “It was warm before, I had to open the window in the office.” He hears Soonyoung smacking his lips, almost ready to get up and cook up something for dinner.  
  
“How were the kids? Behaved alright? Jun told me his and Jihoon’s cats act up before storms.”  
  
Wonwoo chuckles thinking back to his morning, and Soonyoung feels its deep bass reverberating through him, fills him up. “Yeah, they were good too. The laser pointer arrived this morning, and we played for a while until the vase from your mum was nearly knocked over.” Wonwoo smiles too when he feels Soonyoung smiling against his chest; its warmth contrasts the evening chill that is starting to soak into his skin, the whistling wind outside their window building in crescendo. “I didn’t see them much after.”  
  
There’s a beat of silence, a drop of rain. Wonwoo sees Soonyoung check the time on his phone. “They must be tired... Sung’s usually biting my fingers for dinner by now.”  
  
Wonwoo peers at the phone too. He furrows his eyebrows; it’s only when the screen’s artificial brightness hits his eyes that he realises how dark it is. The power’s out.  
  
“Oh. Strange? Ric was due to meow at my feet about half an hour ago. He never stops until he’s fed.” Raindrops roll down the window behind them, joining together and gaining traction.  
  
At almost the same time, the two of them begin to feel something unsettling gnawing at their gut; they give each other a look, wordless, and both let out nervous laughter.  
  
“They’re probably asleep.…”  
  
“...Maybe they knocked open the kibble again?”  
  
Sudden lightning lights up the room for a split second. In that second they see the growing horror on each other’s face, fear and dread and _what ifs_ and _maybes_ , but it isn’t until the thunder crashes down that they exchange looks once more before moving to search the apartment.  
  
Wonwoo checks behind his bookshelf first—he’d found Ric there more than once before, contorted into the crack between the wall and shelf but seemingly comfortable, batting at cobwebs and floating dust.  
  
Soonyoung checks inside the kitchen cabinets (once, at midnight, they thought a raccoon had gotten into the house; it was Sung, stealthily hunting a cockroach and clattering pots and pans along the way).  
  
Both of them check beneath the throw blankets on the armchair (sometimes, after hours of play fighting, they’d find the two snoozing away: curled up together and so quiet, so still that if you didn’t see the rising and falling of their sides you mightn’t think they were alive).  
  
They aren’t anywhere.  
  
When they meet back up, Soonyoung is deadly quiet, even quieter than when he came home. Wonwoo wants to say something, something reassuring or something logical, but his mind blanks out. Soonyoung is the first to speak up.  
  
“Wonwoo…” He looks towards the office as he speaks, eyes examining the only lit area on the wall. “Did you say something before? About opening the window because it was warm?”  
  
Oh.  
  
Wonwoo reaches his hand to push his glasses back up his nose bridge. “Mm. Yeah, I did. But Soonyoung... I know what you’re implying and there’s no way, it doesn’t make sense—”  
  
He stops because Soonyoung isn’t listening anymore; he’s walking into the office now, using his phone as a flashlight. Wonwoo follows.  
  
Inside the office, Wonwoo’s desk and manuscripts are shrouded in a very thin glow of moonlight from the small, rectangular window at the top of the back wall. Even inside the apartment they can feel the stormy chill, hear the whistling wind. Every few minutes, lightning flashes.  
  
“Soonyoung. The window’s at least seven feet high, there aren’t any elevated points near it, and the wall has no grip. There’s no way they could’ve gotten out.”  
  
“Cats can jump really high. It’s happened to Jun before, and you’ve seen their apartment.”  
  
“Their cats are fully grown; ours are barely eight months old.”  
  
“Then maybe they _ran_ up the walls... I’ve seen them do it in the bedroom before.”  
  
“Unlikely. Like I said, no grip—”  
  
“Then _fucking where else_ can they be!”  
  
Wonwoo stops. He hadn’t been paying attention to Soonyoung; he got too carried away. He looks at Soonyoung, or as much of him as he can muster in the cold darkness, and instantly feels a pang of guilt. When the lightning flashes, he can see the frustrated tears welling up in Soonyoung’s eyes.  
  
Rain pours in heavy streaks against the windowpane.  
  
“Soon-ah.” He falters on the last syllable, biting at his tongue. “I’m sorry. I’ll grab the flashlights, meet you outside.”  
  
They agree they can cover more ground if they split up and search through opposite streets. They move, fast. Everything is happening so fast, and the rain is so heavy against their eardrums, and it’s starting to soak Wonwoo right down to his core as he jogs along Amber Drive. He runs from garden to garden, house to house, checking to see if they might’ve taken shelter under someone’s porch, knocking on doors in case somebody’s taken them in. But the rain is too loud and the night is too dark, and most houses don’t answer. The cats are nowhere to be seen.  
  
On his way back to the house, he spies a shape in the dark. He shines his flashlight on it.  
  
Oh.  
  
On the corner of their street, beneath a wind-battered tree, Soonyoung is kneeling.  
  
He runs over.  
  
“Soon-ah!” Wonwoo yells, voice hoarse and straining through the rain and the wind and the dark. He suddenly can’t feel anything besides the blood rushing through his veins, the heavy thudding of his heart. He nears Soonyoung and stops, bracing himself for the worst. “Soon-ah?”  
  
Soonyoung doesn't respond for a few moments. Then, he speaks, not looking at anything in particular. “I can’t find them. They’re not here. I can’t find them anywhere.” He looks up, water streaming down his face. “Wonwoo? Where are our babies, Wonwoo-yah?”  
  
The rain continues falling. The rain continues falling and it beats hard against Wonwoo’s back, but its beating holds nothing to the tightness he feels gripping tighter and tighter in his chest. He watches Soonyoung rub at his face, not caring for his knees soaking into the wet earth below him.  
  
There’s no movement between them, for a while, just the two of them kneeling in the rain in the middle of the street in the middle of the night, until Wonwoo helps Soonyoung up by the shoulder and urges them to move back home. When they reach the door, Wonwoo holds him close and reassures him that someone probably took them in. They’ll go around door knocking, come morning. They’re fine. They’ve got to be.  
  
Right?  
  
They don’t bother showering. They drop their flashlights and soaked shoes by the door and head in, water dripping as they walk. Soonyoung wants to lay down. Wonwoo makes him change into something dry first; he’ll get sick, otherwise. They walk past the empty spot on the couch—the corner with Soonyoung’s fleece blankets and decorative cushions that the cats always loved to play and sleep on—past their kibble and water bowls in the kitchen, and head into their bedroom.  
  
Wonwoo helps Soonyoung peel out of the clothes that are now stuck to his body, like an extra layer of skin, and smoothes back his hair so that it’s out of his eyes. He kisses his damp forehead. Soonyoung moves to the closet while Wonwoo heads to the drawer for a dry pair of underwear.  
  
Then, there’s a loud shriek.  
  
Wonwoo spins around.  
  
Soonyoung’s hand hangs from the handle of the closet. Inside, at the very back, on top of a pile of clothes, Ric and Sung lay sleeping. Or, they _were_ sleeping; Soonyoung’s yell seems to have startled them both awake, much to Sung’s chagrin. Soonyoung falls to his knees, and they hop out of the closet. Wonwoo pulls himself over and kneels too, slinging both arms around Soonyoung and pulling him close.  
  
The cats greet them, meowing in harmony and happy as usual, and try to rub against their owners. Realising they’re wet, they opt instead for licking the water stuck to their legs. “Stupid cats. Stupid _stupid_ cats,” Soonyoung cries, voice pitchy and muffled through Wonwoo’s shirt. “Never do that to us again. _Ever_.” Wonwoo laughs despite himself and buries further into Soonyoung’s neck.  
  


***

“ _Unconditional Parenting_? Never heard of that thrilling novel.”

Wonwoo looks down from where he’s lounging on the living room couch to Soonyoung, who’s on the rug and leaning back into Wonwoo’s side. He watches him motion to the book in his hands, smirking.

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon in early spring. Soonyoung’s off work for the next week, and Wonwoo has just returned home from a routine trip to the library. Light shines through the windowpane and onto the cats, who lay asleep in a pile on Wonwoo’s feet.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, smiling to himself. “Well. They’re almost one now and I’ve gone through every cat-raising book already, some twice. Aren’t kids the next closest thing?” He feels everything inside of him warm up when Soonyoung laughs.

“Um, most people would say no? But honestly… after everything these guys have put us through, I’d argue otherwise.”

They smile at each other, and keep smiling until the cats stir awake from the noise. Oh, _here_ we go: Wonwoo and Soonyoung give each other a knowing look. Wonwoo places his book somewhere safe and Soonyoung reaches for a ball of wool, preparing themselves for playtime.

They’re still playing when the sun begins to set, neither of them bothered enough to get up to turn on the lights. They all end up on the couch, eventually, covered in blankets and cushions and wool. Sung gnaws at Soonyoung’s fingers affectionately, and Ric’s curled up in Wonwoo’s lap. Just another lazy Sunday afternoon in the Kwon and Jeon house.

The setting sun casts an orange glow across Soonyoung and the cats, and it makes Wonwoo purse his lips.

He feels something inside of him stir.

“Maybe,” Wonwoo says, more to himself, as Ric snuggles against his hand, “We can have real kids together, one day.” Right after the words have left his mouth his brain catches up, and his eyes widen, taken aback by himself. He quickly looks to Soonyoung beside him, whose smile is reaching to his cheeks, reaching to the tears that are quickly forming in his eyes.

“I’d love that,” Soonyoung whispers back, and reaches up for a short kiss.

After they part, grinning, Wonwoo suddenly remembers the little velvet box that’s still hidden beneath the pile of clothes in their closet.

“Hey, want to go out later? I think a small Japanese place just opened up downtown. They’ve got katsu, your favourite.” Soonyoung moves closer and links his fingers with Wonwoo’s.

“Yes. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> snwu are cockblocked by cats: the fic
> 
> big big biiiiig happy double birthday to cat and katsu aka catsu aka two of the kindest and most talented people i've had the pleasure of meeting through swn! cat, your kind and hard-working nature never ceases to amaze me and i'm so thankful that the universe/fate/gravity etc. was in my favour enough to have met you and the rest of swn. writing's one of my favourite hobbies now but i wouldn't have continued pursuing it without your endless encouragement and support. you inspire me both as a person and as a writer: truly the cat's pyjamas! katsu, katsudonnie, you're such a kind soul and a beautiful and intelligent and multi-talented person. thank you for being you. you're really one of the funniest and coolest people i know! (:3｣∠)_
> 
> massive thank you as well to amber for being so supportive and kind and just the BEST hype aunt, and to acire for taking soooososo much of your time to look over this with your incredibly Good and Sharp eagle eyes. i really couldn't have done this without you guys, thank you.
> 
> i wish i had more time to write a longer/more elaborate/carefully-written gift, but... i hope you both enjoyed kitty boys regardless! aussie eggo lobes u two, and once again, happy birthday. 
> 
> (pssst p.s. if you're reading this and aren't cat/katsu and want more snwu buds i'm @chwehaw on twt!)


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